


Date Night

by radicallyred



Series: College Collage [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, bad communication skills, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicallyred/pseuds/radicallyred
Summary: A college AU where Tony is working himself to death and Steve just wants to go on dates with his boyfriend





	Date Night

Steve somehow misses Tony at every venture on Wednesday, except at lunch, when he walks through the door to see an entire group of people gathered in a semi-circle around Tony as he explains something about thermonuclear physics, waving around half a turkey sandwich as he talks . He’s a bit perturbed, if he’s honest; Wednesday afternoons are their time. It’s the only day they get to eat lunch together. Steve doesn’t really say much when Tony sidles beside him as he tidies up in the kitchen once his study group is over. He just smiles while Tony playfully says something about Steve being barefoot in his kitchen.

It’s damn confusing, but it’s all he’s got.

***

“Let’s get drinks. You ‘n me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, glancing up from his art-history textbook. “Don’t you have a workshop binge to throw yourself into for the next eighteen hours?”

The sarcasm glances off Tony entirely. “Date night. In or out?”

 _Date night_. Steve considers that for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he says, tugging on his coat. “Just us?”

Tony’s eyes are warm. “Just us,” he says, and kisses Steve, full on the mouth, for the first time that night.

They get drinks at a bar downtown and Tony is buzzing. He gets adrenaline rushes and, as endearing as it is, Steve is just tired. But he thinks about it-date night- and he smiles at Tony and listens to him chatter wildly about new projects and new people. Steve is happy. And Tony is happy, so it’s all more than enough.

***  
“We should go out more,” Steve says idly one morning. It’s early, just about seven, and Tony is showering for his eight a.m. Steve is at the counter in the bathroom finishing up his shave.

“Yeah?” Tony calls over the spray. “You know I’ll never say no to going out with you.” Steve frowns a bit, knowing that Tony has been saying no more and more frequently.

_“Sorry, Steve. Huge lab due in the morning and we just can’t seem to get it.”_

_“Sorry, babe. I’m ridiculously exhausted. Rain check?”_

“Yeah.” Steve agrees. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

And this starts their poor attempt at scheduled date nights. It works, at first. Steve makes the rule that it can’t be before or after lab days, because Tony needs to be running on something more than just caffeine, meaning Tuesdays and Thursdays are out, and Friday and Saturdays are out by default due to Steve’s job at the diner down the street.

They end up on a Sunday/Wednesday schedule. They both managed to end up with the time to sleep in on Mondays, Steve’s first class not starting until 11:30 and Tony’s at noon, and Wednesdays they both get done for the day around one. So they’ll go get dinner, or see a late movie, or get drinks. Sundays and Wednesdays.

It’s not bad. It’s almost feels like they’re boyfriends, going on dates, but they still don’t exactly fit the concept. Steve’s pretty sure that’s okay; that they’re really not supposed to.  
Then he starts to realize that Tony Stark is full of shit, because he keeps saying - “I’m fine, I’m fine,” and waving his hands whenever people express concern, but then he’s falling asleep at really inconvenient moments.

Tony initiates it. He shuts the door behind them with a spectacularly wicked grin. It’s Wednesday, and they’d just gotten home from dinner, and Steve was picking up his apartment but now Tony has him cornered, pressed against the wall.

Steve isn’t complaining.

Tony kisses him, rough and a little biting, and they’re groping each other and gasping and it’s that perfect, natural development that Steve so rarely experiences. He loves Tony for this, especially. He’s always surprising, always leaving Steve with some kind of unexpected shock to his system. Steve curls his fist around Tony’s cock and Tony moans against his throat, low and rough and quiet, almost subdued. Tony’s fingers are clinging to the neck of Steve’s t-shirt at the back, near his spine, and his fingers are calloused and rough. Steve shivers and twists his wrist and they stand like that, rutting against each other, until Tony lets out a soft whine and comes into Steve’s palm, his entire weight sagging against Steve.

Steve huffs in a breath, tries to hoist Tony a little further up, murmuring, “You okay?”

Steve wraps an arm around Tony’s waist and it’s awkward, but when he finally gets a look at Tony’s face. Tony is asleep. Literally asleep, his mouth open just slightly, drool forming in the corner.  
Steve considers dropping him, but instead he drags Tony’s exhausted body to the couch and deposits him there.

***

“You’re giving me that look.” Tony peers at Steve over his phone with a scowl. There’s no heat in the expression, and Steve smiles.

“Yeah, I am,” he admits. Tony pushes himself up into a seated position, tucking his phone into his pocket and watching Steve with his Intent Gaze. That’s what Steve’s named it, though only in his head. One of Tony’s eyebrows shoots up, comedic in its timing, and he smirks then pouts when Steve rolls his eyes.

“Oh,” Tony says, disappointed. “What do you mean?”

“Your stress is stressing me out. You need to relax.”

Tony stares at him again, his mouth set in a half-frown and eyebrows furrowed in a careful, precise crease. Steve shifts under the heaviness of the gaze set on him.

“I don’t know how.” Steve believes that much, yeah. He sighs.

“You’re overworking yourself. You know that, right?” Tony shrugs.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Steve glares at him. “You literally fell asleep on me after a handjob two nights ago.”

Tony has the good sense to look sheepish. Then, of course, he says, “Narcolepsy?” like he’s testing the waters, wondering if he can either convince Steve into just pitying him, or at least make Steve laugh.

Steve glares at him harder, and there’s a sudden tension he can’t name. Tony’s frowning now, really frowning, and he’s avoiding Steve’s eyes, fidgeting with his fingers and then pulling his phone out again to roll it between his hands. He shrugs.

“I’m just worried about you, you know?” Steve says. He lets his voice soften, and Tony glances up at him. Stupid eyelashes. Stupid, beautiful idiot. “You need to take care of yourself.”  
Tony raises an eyebrow again, less dramatically, but nods. He’s silent, lips pressed together in a thin, thoughtful line.

“Okay,” he says after a quiet moment. “Sure.”

***

Most of the time, being with Tony is easy. Whether that means being the guy Tony kisses whenever he wants, or just being around him, it’s true both ways. Sometimes it’s Tony telling a story about something Bruce did in their chem lab, hands moving wildly, eyes enthralling. Other times, it’s laughing as Tony sneaks things into the grocery cart or moving easily around each other when they make dinner. The rest of the time, it’s exhausting.

Tony orders some flavored liquor that Steve can’t pronounce and then downs it in two gulps. Steve nurses a beer and listens as Tony goes full speed, hand motions and everything, on every technicality of whatever it is he’s talking about. (If he’s honest, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He just can’t stop staring at his lips.)  
Steve loves him. He keeps reminding himself; he loves Tony.

Tony is just like a freight train, sometimes. A freight train that never stops. So much for taking care of himself.

“Hey,” Steve says as they wait outside for the Uber. “I love you.” Tony smiles so wide Steve’s heart melts a little bit.

“I love you, too.”  
***  
“I’m off work on Saturday, Nat needed a shift change. Do you wanna go out?” Steve asks dragging a towel through his freshly washed hair.

“Oh,” Tony says, looking up from the book he was reading on the sofa. “I’ll actually be in Malibu for the weekend. My flight is tomorrow afternoon.” Steve’s expression falls. “Did I forget to tell you? I’m sorry.” He manages to look like he truly is. “It’s just for a couple of days, Mom wants me home for the weekend. Some SI award thing Howard won.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll be back by Monday?”

Steve licks his lips. “Of course,” he says, turning on his heel so trek back into his bedroom. He tosses the towel into the hamper and sits on his bed. Tony follows him in after a moment and presses himself against Steve, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I can squeeze in a quick breakfast in the morning if you want.” Tony says pressing kisses up and down his neck.

“Yeah, sure. Sure.” Tony caresses his cheek and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You can stay at my apartment if you want. It’s closer to work and all the good coffee.” Tony offers. Steve hums and tugs Tony down for more kisses.

So that’s how Steve ends up on his couch on a cold Saturday afternoon with a coffee in hand as he watches shitty t.v. He worked the morning shift, 5:30-11:00, and immediately collapsed onto Tony’s ridiculously comfortable couch the second he walked in the door.

Tony’s apartment is a weird mixture of cramped and messy, but in perfect order. He has a decent sized TV set up with an Xbox. Steve breaks his own rule about not touching Tony’s stuff by playing Call of Duty, terribly, for about an hour in the afternoon because he’s bored. Tony has these gorgeous bookshelves packed with everything Steve couldn’t even imagine owning. Books- paperback and hardcover. Novels and textbooks. History books, biographies of people Steve didn’t even know Tony was interested in (there’s one about George Washington that catches Steve’s eye, and then a book on the history of political systems of the world which makes Steve blanch).

There’s records. There’s so many records, new and old, of genres he didn’t think Tony even knew about. There’s Black Sabbath (obviously), there’s Florence and the Machine, there’s Les Mis, ACDC, Guns n’ Roses, there’s bands Steve has never even heard of.

And it just goes on and on and on.

Steve is again struck by how much Tony does with such little time. Steve sighs and prods one of the less well-read titles from the top shelf. It’s another biography. There are a couple of bends in the spine, so Tony’s definitely taken a look at the book, but it’s otherwise pretty pristine.

So Steve sits down, takes a break, and starts to read.

***

Sleeping in Tony’s bed is weird. It’s not the first time he’s slept there, of course, but there’s a certain awkwardness to climbing under the covers when Tony isn’t there. Steve debates with himself about sleeping on the couch - he wouldn’t have to tell Tony either way. But that seems cowardly, somehow, so settles into bed and falls asleep, rather restlessly. Steve’s exhausted on Monday, but he’s also starting to miss Tony, so he texts Tony good-night and crawls into bed and falls asleep by ten o’clock.

He wakes with a start to something cold pressed to his neck. He’s about to swat when Tony mumbles, “Hey, ‘s jus’ me,” with a bit of a tired slur to his voice.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters, sleep still edging in his vision. “You said your flight was on Tuesday.”

Tony smiles against Steve’s skin. “I lied,” he whispers, nipping along Steve’s collar. “Missed you.”

Steve smiles and closes his eyes as Tony tucks his head into his shoulder. Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s loose, greasy hair. “I missed you too,” he says, and Tony chuckles, slotting in right beside Steve.

“Sorry to scare you,” he says, but Steve just hums. His dream is still pressed against him, like Tony, like the firm warmness of Tony’s chest to his back.

He’s asleep before he can say good-night again.

***  
Date-nights fall out as easily as they start.

Steve doesn’t blame Tony. At least, not any more than he blames himself.

This time, though, he’s blaming Tony. It’s nearly an hour after they agreed to meet at the restaurant, and Steve is sitting alone at the bar working on his third beer. Eight o’clock rolls around and he fishes cash out of his wallet and leaves.

Steve walks into his own apartment and sees Tony face down on his couch. Steve slams the door and watches Tony flinch into a seated position in a manner that would usually be comical.  
“Fuck,” Tony hisses. “I...dinner.”

“Yeah. Dinner.” Steve crosses his arms, body angry. “Seriously, Tony? I ask you for two nights a week so I can spend time with my boyfriend. I...is that too much to ask for?”

“Woah,” Tony breathes. “I thought we were meeting here and I fell asleep. I’m sorry, this one’s on me.” Steve’s jaw tenses, still frozen in the doorway.

“You’re running yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself.” He moves to cup Tony’s jaw, caressing his warm cheek.

“It isn’t your job to take care of me.” Tony says calmly, removing Steve’s hand from his face.

“Yeah, it kind of fucking is.” Steve snaps. Tony blinks at him, his mouth opening and his eyes widening in shock. Then he sits back, stands up. Tony runs a hand through his hair, glancing around the room. His eyes occasionally flick towards Steve, and Steve’s not stupid enough to miss what sits behind that look, the anxieties and fears and desires. Everything Steve loves about Tony, directed at him with the utmost frustration. Possibly anger.

“You,” Tony says standing, getting into Steve’s face. “Are not my keeper. You are my boyfriend. You are supposed to love me and support me, and I have to say, Steve, I don’t feel supported lately.” Tony flattens his palms against Steve’s chest and takes a deep breath. “We’re in college, Steve. I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re kind of paying to do work, so I’m sorry if sometimes I get preoccupied in actual reason I’m fucking here.”

“Then why are you here?” Steve chokes. “If you’re not here for me, why are you _here?”_

“Because I love you!” Tony yells. “Jesus Christ, Steve. Have you noticed that half my shit ended up here? Or that you have an entire side in my closet? That isn’t an accident. I love you and I want to be with you, but I don’t think I can be around you right now.” Tony stands and blows past Steve, right out the door. Steve hits his knees, loses all resolve and breaks down, ugly sobbing.

***

“You wanna talk about it?” Bucky asks as they’re getting drinks after work.

“Talk about what?”

Bucky turns his body towards Steve and quirks his eyebrow. Steve sits up a little bit, folding his arms across his chest. Bucky looks at him, then looks at his chest, then looks back at Steve’s face. Like he knows exactly what Steve’s problem is.

“Whatever’s going on in that brain of yours,” Bucky finally says, and his voice is a little softer now. “You’ve been quiet, and I haven’t heard from you or Tony in like a week.”

“I’ve been busy with midterms,” Steve lies.

“Bullshit.” Bucky accuses. “Did you guys break up?”

That makes a hundred things spark in Steve’s head, most of them rather mean. Bucky’s expression falls, and Steve realizes he’s scowling.

“No. We just had a fight. A big one.” Steve mutters. He looks away.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Steve bites his lip. He already talked about it. He unloaded on Peggy before their art show, and she’d been incredibly sweet, kissing his forehead and promising him things would get better. He feels directionless, doing what he loves, hit by something new every day. Peggy is still hopeful, young enough that she hasn’t been hit by those fears that everything’s going to fall apart.

“No.”

“Well, you’re moping. So talk to him, or I will.”

***

It’s late on a Wednesday night when Steve finally returns to his apartment. He’d busied himself at the library until his hunger drove him home. Steve unlocks his door and freezes when he sees Tony standing in the middle of the room, dressed up with a bottle of wine in hand.

“Hi,” Tony says. “I hope you’re hungry, I made lasagna.” Steve walks to his boyfriend and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s voice is quiet, his face buried into Steve’s strong chest.

“What are you sorry about? I’m sorry I was so angry.” Tony shrugs, pulling away to look Steve in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have stonewalled you the other night. Leaving probably wasn’t the best thing, either. But I needed space, time to think, you know.” Steve can’t help but smile, wry as it is.

“Yeah.”

“So. Food.” Tony dishes out the food, lights some candles and pours the wine, and Steve just watches.

“This is amazing, sweetheart. Thank you.” Tony ducks his head, maybe to hide his grin. When he looks up again though, his eyes are sort of sad.

“Do you think I’m far away?” It’s not a new topic. Steve shrugs.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Tony repeats, a nostalgic lilt to his voice. “That’s what I’ve been worried about.”

“I shouldn’t shut you out for it,” Steve says. “It wasn’t fair…” He trails off. He isn’t sure how to explain it, that feeling in his gut. How they could be in the same space, so often, constantly sharing stories and life-experiences, and still not know how to cope with each other face-to-face. “I’m learning.”

“Me too,” Tony says, wistful. “Something was wrong, the other night.”

“Yeah,” Steve admits. “I didn’t... I didn’t want to put that on your shoulders.”

“We’re…” Tony pauses. He bites his lips, furrows his eyebrows. “We’re still figuring this out, aren’t we?” Steve hums.

“We are,” he says. “You keep leaving crap at my place.” He’d let that sit for a while, hadn’t even been thinking about it. Tony opens his mouth and then blushes, the sort of furious, red-faced blushing that’s so uncommon in reality.

“I told you that the other night, I think.” Steve starts to laugh.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“I thought you’d just accept it,” Tony grins sheepishly. “I forgot, actually. That I’d left so much stuff over there.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m okay with it. I’ve left quite a bit at yours, too.”

Tony goes quiet again. “I don’t want you to not...to feel like you can’t tell me what’s going on. There’s always room for you, Steve.”

“Tony,” he says, because it’s the only word that really makes sense. Then he nods. “Okay, yeah, I know. And I know that you have to be responsible for yourself. I can’t make you hold yourself to different standards, or whatever, I don’t know.” He shrugs. Tony is smiling again. “I know you get anxious, too. You get...worried, over small stuff.”

“I’m sorry we stopped going on dates.” Steve huffs, reaching to take his hand.

“As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m fine.”

Tony is quiet, staring at Steve with that stupid, intense gaze again.

“So what are you waiting for? Take me to bed, soldier.”

And Steve ravishes him until the sun comes up.

***

They take a cab because there’s just something necessary about the privacy. Steve lets himself hold Tony’s hand, stroking his thumb over Tony’s knuckles. Tony is humming something Steve recognizes, but it’s the same part over and over again, and Steve can’t quite place it. Maybe it’s something Tony’s been singing in the shower, just off-key enough that he sounds ridiculous but just intoned enough that he still sounds perfect.

“Nervous?” Tony says and Steve chuckles.

“Why would I be nervous?”

“It’s been awhile since you left,” He nudges Steve in the ribs, presses a little closer in the cab space.

“It’s just a week, I haven’t seen my mom since Christmas break.” Tony gives him a lopsided grin then leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. Steve hesitates. Then kisses him back.

“I wish I could really take you with me,” Steve says with a sigh when he pulls away.

“Maybe when classes are over, we can go to my parent’s place in Malibu.” He stops, bites his lip. Steve’s smiling.  
“I’d love that.”

They ride to the airport together the rest of the way quietly, Tony squeezing Steve’s hand and drumming his fingers on his thigh with his other hand. Steve tugs his suitcase out of the trunk, and Tony swipes his card in the back of the cab and thanks the driver.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve says, cupping Tony’s face. He bites the inside of his cheek and takes a deep breath, trying to measure himself and stay steady.

Tony kisses him on the mouth, in the mostly quiet airport. His flight isn't for another two hours. Steve wraps his arms around Tony's waist and holds him still, Tony's breath against his neck.  
"It's only a week," Tony mumbles. "We'll figure it out, yeah? We'll figure it out."

"We’ll figure it out," Steve agrees, and he gently pushes them apart so he can press a kiss to Tony's forehead. Tony grins.

"I love you." Tony whispers. Steve kisses him once more, strokes his cheek and whispers it back.

"I'll be back soon. I promise, you won't even have time to miss me."

"Soon," Tony says.

"Soon," Steve repeats, and gives Steve one last kiss before he turns and drags his suitcase towards security.

“Hey!” Tony yells. Steve turns around, looking confused. “You’re missing date night.” Steve laughs and stalks back to Tony to engulf him in a hug.

“Dates aren’t the most important thing in the world,” Steve says.

“No,” Tony agrees. “You are.”


End file.
